Convenience

Part 8

"I'm afraid Ms Cardoso has to leave." A man put out an arm to prevent David from coming closer. Andre wasn't sure who this powerful looking rather attractive man was, but he was not going to allow him to intimidate Beatrice. "Ms Cardoso has another engagement." Speaking at the same time and over David, the man ushered the entourage toward the doorway, "If you want to make an appointment, please contact...."

David had no intention of being out manoeuvred. "I don't need an appointment to talk with my wife!" David announced smoothly and loudly to be heard over the chatter.

That caused several heads to turn. The conversation all but stopped as people caught the last word. Wife? Did that man just say wife? Beatrice Cardoso was married?

Though most had seen the wedding ring on her finger but none appeared to know who came with the ring and fewer still had bothered to look into her personal life. She was a very self-contained woman whose private life appeared to be tediously mundane. So most had assumed she wore a wedding band for affect. And yet, now, here was a man, claiming to be that mysterious husband. Why would she keep this specimen a secret? The man was every woman's dream. He was Beatrice's husband?

A ripple went round the room as that little nugget was communicated faster than a wild fire in bush fire season.

Beatrice didn't so much as twitch. One thing she had learnt in her short time with this man, he was not a man to be trifled with. If he wanted something he went after it.

"Wife?" Squeaked the wiry man who had been trying to usher Beatrice out. He looked in comical disbelief at Beatrice.

Other people watched with open interest hoping to garner a bit more information for the gossip mill. They took stock of the man claiming to be her husband. A businessman given his attire. Good looking, in a traditional sense. His hair was cut short, his jaw line was square, his face free of stubble. He had amazing hazel coloured eyes that against the back drop of that tanned skin gave him a leonine look. He was tall, a good head taller then most of the men in the room. And broad. His clothes were well cut, and expensive. So, her husband was good looking and rich. Both categories any sane woman would normally be advertising to all and sundry. Yet Beatrice had kept him quiet. Kept this prime specimen quiet. Why? Must be a reason. Violence? Wimp? Sanity? Curiosity built.

David didn't help matters when he lifted her left hand and waved the ring and her fingers at the man, "I put this on her finger." David told the blustering man. David wasn't sure quite why he was intent on highlighting his association, given he was here to put an end to it. But the fact that she had clearly not told anyone that she was with him, albeit on paper, suddenly irked. Oddly it rankled. He was a proud man, and having a wife who had spent the last five years clearly ensuring that most people did not know who her husband was, more than rankled.

Which was odd, because in reality, it shouldn't make a difference.

It was also hypocritical to some extent, as he had spent five years away from her. But unlike her, he hadn't hidden the fact he was married. He told all his girlfriends that he was married. All his girlfriends knew his wife's name. If they got involved with him, they knew it would not end in marriage, for he was a married man.

Beatrice was no secret in his private or public life. In contrast he clearly was a secret in her life. That struck him as odd. Firstly because most of the women he knew were more than delighted to be associated with him. In any case, surely Beatrice would want to trade on his name? Want her association to David Cardoso to be known? He was a successful, well-connected, highly respected businessman. Knowing him had currency. It could open doors for Beatrice. But to her, apparently that did not matter. He did not matter. David was a secret. She clearly hadn't told anyone she was married to him. That really rankled.

Beatrice flicked her wrist out of David's hold with no more than a casual flip, and faced her agent, "Andre, give me a moment. I'll be right out." Beatrice said softly and gently extricated herself from the throng that surrounded her. She tipped her head, and faced David as she said with quiet assurance and a poise that shook his composure, "If you come with me, we can talk privately. Andre, I'll use the prep room." Beatrice walked confidently toward a doorway just to the side of the entrance. Having issued a statement she simply expected David to follow her.

David nearly blinked. This was not the woman he had married. The nervous, anxious, mouse he had married would not have issued commands as if she was in charge.